The Longest Road
by Elfsire
Summary: One girl's quest to find her brother, a knight, through hardships and hapiness. Can she find what she is looking for? Rating to be safe.
1. Prologue A tale once begun does not end

Disclaimer: I, only own my characters and anything else I own. This story is probably not going to be historically accurate, so I will ask you to bear with me if it isn't.

A tale once begun does not end. It carries on until its finish. But once finished cannot the tale carry on until the end of time, following its characters to the end and beyond? Cannot a tale follow the children of the characters, and their children and so on through eternity? So you must follow a tale through, wherever it may lead, carry the weight of it, and then pass it on. You will never see the end of your tale, no one ever will.

All that we are today, and all that we will be is a tale. How we came here, where we are now, and what we will do in the future, who we will be and what will happen to us, it is all part of the tale. Everyone carries out their own bit of the story, not aware that they are part of the tale. Some others know they are part of the tale, and it can kill them. Others know but pay no heed; they live their lives, the tale being written down in front of them.

There is no way laid before your feet, you make your part of your tale your own. That is what we all must do, just live our lives. When you die you know that the tale will never end, you see it stretching out in front of you for miles and miles. For a moment it is almost as if you see all that has been and all that ever will be. Then you forget it would drive you mad to see everything. All you know is you have lived out your life, and have played a part.

My tale begins long before I was even born. I say it began when the world was born, and when others roamed the countries of the world. I suppose I could say that it began on the banks of the River Tiber, where Rome was built. I even could say that it began on the battlefield where my people were crushed by the Romans. I will not begin my tale there, nor will I begin it when my life began. Instead I will begin on an interesting incident that would change my life forever.

I never really knew how my tale would fit into the larger one; I just knew that my tale had not really begun with my birth, and that it would not really end with my death. I knew but I chose not to let it affect my life. Sometimes I wonder though, what happened if I wasn't there at that time, what would have happened? Perhaps it is for the best that these things happen.

We all have to learn about loss, maybe not the death of a loved one, but leaving your home and family for a new life. All the bitterness, and all the bloodshed help us to realise how precious the moments are when we experience kindness and love, and those are the moments that make us cling to our frail lives more dearly with every passing moment.

I do not weep for my past, because although it holds moments of great sadness it also holds moments of great happiness. It shows how love can overcome obstacles, and it tells of the brave chivalry of a few willing to stand up and fight for their freedom. These were the men who opened my eyes to the true beauty and pain of life. These men are the Knights of the Round Table.

Author's note: So what do you think? I hope you enjoyed, and I hope that you will take the time to review. All critism is welcome, be it constructive or not.


	2. Chapter 1 The First Parting

Disclaimer: I only own my own characters.

Troyfan16: Thanks for reviewing. I'm glad you think it's interesting and am sorry the first bits repetitive. UnicornTKD: Glad you enjoyed it, here's the next chapter for you.  
Rockerforlife: Glad you enjoyed it so far, and hope you carry on enjoying it.

Chapter 1 The First Parting

I was always a happy child, growing up on the plains of my home, with my elder brother, Kay. We always had fun, racing across the flat lands, and when we tired of that we would race our horses, or engage in friendly mock archery contests, either that or duels. And perhaps when we wanted other children to play with we would engage in mock battles, and me and Kay always won, always, unless we were on opposite teams, and then it would always be a close run thing. Sometimes Kay would win, sometimes I would.

Being one of the few girls in these games I learnt early on not to rely on brute force, if I did that I would be beaten by one of the larger and heavier boys. So I learnt the secrets of sneaking about, and launching quick attacks before melting away again, before regrouping and launching yet another sneak attack. I also had to keep on modifying my tactics, as Kay soon learnt them all.

Eventually we were deemed too old to play these games and were sent to learn jobs beside the fire. I soon learnt how to craft the beaded necklaces and how to weave the mats and other items that our tribe was so famous for. This I soon tired of, and went to see how my brother Kay was being employed. I saw my father trying to teach him the arts of smithing, half heartedly.

This was not the smith before me that I knew my father to be. I knew my father to be absorbed in his work, and passionate about it. He would often enthuse to his daughter about some project or other. He would even let me help from time to time. I didn't know it then, but my plan wasn't just to sit by the hearth and weave or make trinkets. My father had other plans for me. There was only me and Kay in my family, so you may easily guess what my father plan was for me.

My brother was to be taken as a knight, although only he knew it. They all kept it from me, they thought I would be angry, and they had guessed right. But I did not know it at that time. So my father took me into his smithy, as he would his younger son, and taught me how to smelt swords and decorate them. I was never allowed to do this in the earlier years alone, it was deemed to difficult. I often looked over to see my big brother working away at the same sword he had been working on for a while with father's help. I would smile and help, never knowing what this sword meant.

I worked on a special present for Kay, because with all my limited intuition, I knew that something big was going on. So in my days I made him a special arrow, one I knew that could never be fired. I made the head all by myself with my father sitting and watching. Then I took to sitting in a corner for days, ignoring all other metal work, to my father and Kay's alarm. The shaft was wood, but I had been casting secretly shapes of horses and other such things, and so I spent time pinning them to the shaft.

I never showed Kay, only my father, who marvelled at how I had managed to make such precious little things to adorn the arrow. I told him how I had constructed them, and he looked on in wonder and awe. Then he pronounced that sometime in the future I would be sent not just to learn from him and mother, but also that I would be sent to Allard to learn jewellery crafting with metal, which was a highly prized art.

I nodded, but being the precocious child I was I asked why I could not go then. I got a very sharp answer from my usually placid father that I had to help prepare Kay for a journey. I was confused by this answer; I knew nothing of it then. So I settled down to placidly making Kay arrows and sometimes helping with his sword, not knowing in the future that my work would be used to kill and maim. I was a child on the brink of being in between the time when you are neither a child nor an adult. Secretly I was glad of the time spent crafting things. In the evening I would sit down by my family's hearth and weave things for my brother, sturdy cloaks, blankets with patterns on it, as well as serviceable blankets. I was aided in the task by my mother, who made reed mats for him, and pillows so that he would be able to sleep under the stars comfortably. Kay just sat with us in the evenings, brooding.

In my youth I would rush to show Kay everything I had made for him, hoping to startle them out of his dark moods. He would smile and ruffle my hair then, and tell me how wonderful I was. I almost let slip about his surprise, but I managed to guard that one secret jealously. I would keep that until the last moment, when I would have no choice but to reveal it to him.

I was glad I did not have to take up my studies with Allard. I was secretly scared of the man, as he seemed so large to me from my child's perspective. I would also have been secretly annoyed that my last moments with Kay were being stolen away from me. I was perhaps now the only person in my village that could make Kay laugh and smile as he once did, although soon even I stopped trying. There was too sombre and air for me to be the unaffected child that I once was.

All too soon the day had come when there was nothing else to be made, everything had been done that could be done. So the trio in my father's forge worked on orders for swords and arrows for the sons of the village. I was able to be a little happy for Kay; I knew at least that he would have some friends on his journey. My brother seemed to become worse with every passing day, especially when it brought the order for more arrows.

On these days it would be the waiting that would get to Kay, as well as the knowledge of what was coming. The only thing that would soothe him was me dragging him across the plains on his horse. He would chase me on my mare Fleetwind, and I would always triumph. When he even tired of that I would take him home and let him sit in his enforced gloom, it would pass, it always did, and then he would be the loving Kay he always was.

One evening I came home. There were the rest of my family sitting around the hearth, waiting for me. I took my place on the floor and accepted the bowl of stew I was given. I knew something was wrong. I kept on trying to start a conversation, but the others were strangely unwilling to talk. I soon finished my bowl, and went to collect the others, to wash in the stream.

"No, don't Kyna; your mother will clear them away," My father waved me down, and I settled with some apprehension. "Kyna, we've all been lying to you for a while and I thought that it wasn't right and that we should tell you the truth," Kay spoke looking directly at me.  
"You know I'm going away soon?" Kay queried.  
"Of course I do, I'm not that silly," I had begun to sulk at the prospect of being lied to. "Kyna, please, you're not making this any easier," my father sighed heavily.

I listened then, not saying a word. I listened as they told me that my brother would be leaving soon, to serve for fifteen years in the Roman Army. I was numb. I can't remember what I was fiddling with, but it fell from my hands, and I barely noticed. I knew nothing but what was being told to me. I knew about the battle for our freedom which we lost, but now, to be thus affected with it. I never thought it would be my brother, my family that would be torn apart.

I think I did nothing else but sit there for the whole evening. I dimly remember Kay kneeling next to me, pleading with me to talk to him, to assure him that everything was alright, even though we all knew it wasn't. I don't think I answered him, I couldn't. It was as if I was seeing everything through a fog, and I knew then that I couldn't talk. I couldn't tell my brother that everything was alright, because it wasn't.

I think I grew up that night. I left the child behind me, never to play the childish games as I once did. My whole world had been shattered and they expected me to be the same. I wasn't. Looking back I could see my childhood stretching out in happy golden sun drenched days behind me. The sun would still shine, I may be happy, but it would never be the same. I had lost my innocence.

I was bidden to go to bed as I usually did. I lay down and my head touched the pillows, but I did nothing, my eyes didn't close, they stared blankly, not seeing what was before them. I absorbed what was happening, and what was going on around me whilst my family fell into a deep sleep. When all was still and even the glow from the fire had died down, then it hit me.

I cried then bitterly. I curled up in a ball and sobbed. I know not now whether I was crying for the loss of my childhood or the loss of my brother. All I can say is that I was lamenting the passing of both, for my brother was my childhood. He had been my protector and friend, my teacher and my pupil. He would let me teach him things if he wanted to know them. He was once my steadfast companion.

But no more. He was being torn away from me. Taken to some distant shore far away from all of us, out of reach. We couldn't write I didn't have the knowledge then. I would later on, after all of my experiences, but by the time I learnt to write it was futile. Anyway my brother never knew how to read, I don't think he ever learnt, unlike me. So my letters would have meant nothing to him, perhaps he would have used them as kindling for all the use they would have been.

All I really wanted was for someone to tell me things were alright, to hold me and soothe me until I stopped crying. But that isn't always the case for adults. Sometimes they have to be alone, and learn to dry their own tears, and to comfort themselves with the harsh world of reality. Eventually my tears stopped running, only when I fell asleep, exhausted by my crying.

I awoke to the sunshine. It seemed paler now then it ever did before. Kay had already bundled his things together, he had heard the horn call that told us the Romans were here. I dressed hurriedly, tugging at my dress and pulling my hair into a quick braid. I scrambled around the tent, knocking things over in my haste to look for the arrow. Kay came in and collected his things, raising an eyebrow as I rummaged around.

I grasped upon my arrow finally and raced outside. I saw Kay at his horse, talking to father, who was embracing my mother. I raced across to them and stood proudly, holding the arrow out in front of me like a trophy. Kay smiled down at me, and then stopped as he saw the arrow I had created. It brought tears to his eyes which he did not shed. His fingers traced the patterns before he leant down from his horse and kissed my cheek.

"Thank you, I'll treasure it forever," my brother placed his sparkling present amongst the rest of his arrows before riding off.

I don't remember that day, or that night very clearly. All I remember is my mother crying lots and father comforting her. I went for a long walk on the plains without my mare; I didn't want her mood to be spoilt by mine. I went back late at night and slept, a deep sleep, still exhausted from the previous evening. I felt lost without my brother or any work laid before me.

The next day I woke lost. I took my mare and rode as far away from my village as I dared, hoping to catch a glimpse of the retinue my brother was travelling in. I fancied I saw the shining armour of the Romans in the distance, but I couldn't be sure. I stayed there, sliding from my mare, who left me alone, though it broke her heart to do so. She had already lost her brother, now she must have feared she was loosing her mistress.

I sat down in the long grass and waited. I knew not what for. It rained hard, and the thunder gods roared out their anger in the skies. A bolt of lightning struck not far from me, and I didn't flinch, even though the sound could well have deafened me. It didn't though, and I sat deadened to everything, not minding that I was soaked through to the skin. I didn't feel cold, although later they told me I caught a fever and could have died.

But I didn't. I lived, and I learnt from Allard the skills of his craft. And I helped my father in the smithy, and my mother in the home, and eventually my madness passed. The desire to take Fleetwind and ride as fast as I could after my brother passed. What was left behind was a part of the girl I used to be, and only a fragment of the woman I would become.

I imagined then that the worst hardship was being separated from my brother. But then I didn't know of how cruel the Romans can be. I didn't know that I would face much worse hardships than just loosing my brother. What I dreaded most was loosing someone else, my mother or father, or my teacher Allard. That would have been the end of my world. Little did I know how my world would end.

Author's note: I hope you all enjoyed this as much as you did the prologue. I'm sorry if you found it boring and repetetive, maybe later on I will go back and re write it for you all. 


	3. Chapter 2 Carried Away

Disclaimer: Still I only own what I own, which is a bit of a shame really, because I really would love to own more, but wouldn't everyone?

Tristan's Lady Meg: I'm glad you like my style, and I hope you carry on enjoying reading this.  
Troyfan16: I'm glad you liked the last chapter. I think now though, I'm having Kyna gain a little bit of freedom she didn't have, but at what cost? Kellerkind: I don't think I meant to make anybody cry when I wrote this. I hope you enjoy your vacation.  
Knight Maiden: clicks fingers Darn, I guess you got the plot. But before we get there Kyna gets to go on a little adventure of her own.

Chapter 2 Carried Away

"Be careful girl!" Allard exclaimed as I slung the last of our wares on to the wagon.

Allard and I were going to one of the city ports, a good wagon drive away, to sell the wares of our people. We would not show it but we were beginning to get desperate after our crops had failed, and so instead of waiting until the pedlars came Allard and I were travelling to where we would get a better price for our village's wares. In return we were planning to buy enough food to see us through until the next planting season, when the seeds we would buy would be planted.

As I had grown I had lost my fear of Allard. He no longer seemed to be a beast of a man; instead he had become a second father to me. And I knew that I was as much a child to Allard as I was to my own parents, him having no natural children. He would often growl at me, but I knew he never meant it, and I could twist him around my finger with the easy assurance of youth. I couldn't do that now.

I was excited. I was leaving my home village for the first time in my life. I never would have left if I knew it would have set in motion the chain of events that it did. Or perhaps I still would have left. I was brash with youth and full of confidence, and would not listen to the warnings of those who knew what they were talking about. I felt invincible. Never again, never again will I feel that. Too much has happened for me ever to feel that.

All the boys younger than me who had not been taken were jealous. The girls my age and older were green with envy. I had been picked because I worked with Allard, and had often shown myself as having a cool head when dealing with others, bartering and selling our goods. So I had been the obvious choice, and I didn't regret it one bit. I still don't regret it today.

The sense of freedom was unbelievable. I felt as if I could fly, or reach out and take the sun, the moon or the stars and pluck them from the sky. I was no longer bound by the rules of my tribe, only by Allard's rules, which were much less strict. I did not share in the nervousness of my parents who sent the only child left to them off into the wide world, without knowing whether I would come back.

It must have been a wrench to them, letting me go. I was their pride and joy now Kay was gone. Secretly I was glad to go; their love had become stifling after my brother had left. I was their hopes and their dreams now, all they wanted was for me to settle down and marry, produce grandchildren. Perhaps by letting me go they thought that I would get some of the restlessness out of my system, the same one that had never truly left me since Kay had gone.

I remember now something my mother told me. She told me it when I said that I had no notion of settling down, just before I left. She sat me down and told me something that made no sense to me in my youth, but that would come back to me when I was truly an adult, and could understand the wisdom of her words.

"One day," she told me, "One day you will wish to settle down and have a family, but only when you have found the person who is right for you."

I scoffed at that then, and I ran off to the wagon, to help Allard finish off packing. All I can remember is my mother smiling sadly. She kept that smile, even as the tears poured from her face as she was waving me off, embraced by my father, who was waving me off. Never will I forget those faces, my mother heartbroken that she was loosing me. And my father, proud that I was making my way in the world, but sorry to be loosing his little girl, his precious little gem.

I wonder if my mother knew that I would never return. She said that about Kay, and I could well believe it. All the fighting and bloodshed, how could one person hope to escape that? My father scoffed, but I didn't. He had the assurance that Kay would return from his service. I had learnt some things from Allard, who had served, and who had returned to find his tribe utterly changed. He had lost his sweetheart, and she'd had children and they were growing up around the village.

So he left his village, seeing there was no place for him there. He had found my tribe, where craftspeople were welcomed and respected, and he had settled down there. He never talked of this to anyone but me, and I was aware of the great honour. He had never heard from anyone in his village again, and he said he never wanted to.

I said that was harsh, but he answered that it was the way of the world. He said one day I would grow away from my parents and yearn for a home of my own, and children. When I told him that I only wanted to be a smith and jeweller he laughed, and said exactly the same thing as mother did. I didn't believe that piece of advice as I did all his others. I thought they were just romantic and foolish ramblings, though I didn't tell him in case he got angry with me. And Allard's temper was legendary amongst my tribe.

I once asked him, if when he had went back to his village, and seen his sweetheart and her children, that he did not wish she was married to him, and that the children were his. He said he did and he didn't. He did because he wanted a family and children to love and care for. He didn't because he said he was so changed by his service that he was not who his sweetheart had fallen in love with, and she would fear what he had become.

I said that any child would be blessed to have him as their father and he laughed at me and asked how so. I told him that he would teach them patiently, the same way he had taught me, not just the skills of his trade, but how to grow up and live in this world of hardships. He had taught me a lot, he didn't shelter me like my parents. I realised that had I talked to him about Kay he would have told me the truth.

I became more interested in the country we were passing once we left the plains. I had hardly seen hill the land was so flat. Imagine then that I was in awe of the hills. I was cowed; me who felt the world couldn't stop her, who felt that she knew everything. I felt for the first time small, and that the world was a large place, where sometimes you couldn't be protected, or hide behind others as I had been able to do all my life so far. 

I think the most amazing thing was seeing the sea. The mountain path we took showed us the sea before it showed us the port. I was stunned. It was so beautiful. The sun was just beginning to rise, painting this vast expanse of water pink. And the smell of salt hung in the air and was a joy to inhale. The feel of the cool breeze on my skin lifted my spirits; we were finally there, at our destination.

Later on I had the chance to see that the sea was a beautiful azure blue. The sounds of the waves crashing on the beach were oddly soothing to me. I was allowed to take a walk along the beach, and paddled my feet in the water, which I discovered to be cold. I leapt out squealing to the amusement of Allard. This bruised my pride, so I ended up back at the edge of the shoreline, bathing my feet in the freezing sea.

I managed to enjoy the sight of the seagulls soaring in the air, calling to each other. They were exotic and foreign, although all the locals said they were pests really, and that even though we were only staying a week, that we would learn it. I laughed at them, and they were proved right the first day, when one snapped at my hair, and it did hurt. That again caused Allard to laugh at me, and what I wouldn't have given to bottle that sound and carry it around with me through my hardest times.

I didn't look like I belonged, I knew that. I was awed by everything, by the marketplace bustling with people, with all the sellers hawking their wares as loud as they could. I knew Allard could be heard above the din, but me? I wouldn't have stood a chance. I was too shy, I didn't know anyone, and so my easy confidence had been stripped from me.

And I couldn't stop looking. Everything was so new, the smells and the sights. I was dazzled. I turned my head this way and that, my eyes wide as saucers. I could have sworn that if I had looked any longer at the fire eater my eyes would have popped out. Everything was bright and new, I couldn't see the dirt that lay beneath the glittering façade. Perhaps it was for the better, I think Allard only wanted to protect me.

Had I known I would have been on my guard from the first moment we entered the city. I would have found no joy in sleeping on a bed for the first time, even if it was a simple cot, for fear that someone would snatch me out of it. Had I known there were cutpurses I would have hidden my moneybag, which would have been pointless for all the coin I carried on me. Had I known there were kidnappers…? What would I have done? It's easy to say what you might have done when it's already happened.

I soon settled into the way of things. You had to, even after you had been there for such a short time, as I had. Otherwise you mark yourself out to be murdered in some dark alleyway, with no hope of ever reaching your home again. Of course I had Allard beside me as my companion, I thought no one would dare tackle me with him around, but some people were, and still are desperate, although I knew nothing of them yet.

I was considered a rarity. I was a girl, and yet I dressed like a man, I had brought none of my dresses with me, thinking that it would be far more practical if I was dressed in breeches and a shirt. What I didn't know was that a girl with dark hair dressed in breeches and a shirt stood out far more amongst a people with fair hair and whose women always wore dresses. I didn't think of it then, and I tend not to dwell on it too much now. 

We passed a successful few days, Allard and I. I had a keen eye for prices, and would haggle with the customers, whilst Allard would advertise our wares to the passing crowds, most of whom were dazzled by such exotic trinkets as we presented. Maybe it was because our wares were so exotic that they sold well, very well. I let Allard pocket all the money, if I had it I knew it would either be stolen from me, or I would be tempted to fritter it away on things that would have no use in our village.

The last day for selling our wares dawned clear and bright. I was in high spirits as I had been all that week, the freedom had done me good, and I almost regretted that we were returning to the peace of my village. But then I remembered my swift mare Fleetwind and my mother and father, and I felt pangs of homesickness, so that I could hardly wait to be off.

We were to go in two days, leaving us one day for buying the things we needed before travelling. Then we would go back to our village, and I could hardly wait. I wanted to see the happy faces of my friends again, I wanted to settle back to work, splitting my time between the smithy, Allard's workshop and helping my mother at the fireside, crafting such wonderful things as I had seen sold so quickly.

I guessed that if the bad harvests kept on for a while we would become more dependent than ever on our crafts, and we would not be selling or bartering everything with the traders. All I could see were numerous trips down to the town lying before me. It was all I could ever want from life, the bustle of the town contrasted with the quiet of my family life, what more could anyone ask for?

With these thoughts we did our best selling yet. We had kept as many goods back as we could, and we sold all but a few, which we would take back to trade with the pedlars when they came round. I was pleased, and I knew that Allard was pleased, and knew that I could look forward to another day in this busy place, this time being the discerning buyer and driving hard bargains, and then going home knowing I had helped to ensure the survival of the people, I knew Allard would help, as he could haggle when he wanted to.

As we were putting the last few things back on the cart to be taken back to the inn we were staying in we were approached by some Roman guards. I looked puzzled at them for a few moments, before shrugging and getting back on with my work, the Romans could wait. A look passed between us, and one shuffled his feet in the dirt uneasily, whilst another coughed to gain my attention. I knew there to be no point in ignoring them any longer, so I turned around, an unimpressed look on my face.

"How can I help you?" I enquired of them.  
"Our business is with the girl," one of the Roman guards said as Allard looked around.

I sensed something odd in that statement, and immediately was put on my guard. Allard obviously had sensed something wrong as well, as he came up behind me and grasped my shoulder protectively. The Roman guards seemed to not be put out by this, but one of the smiled.

"You can have no business with her without talking to me first," Allard said his hand a comforting presence on my shoulder.  
"Well we would just like to take the lass for a drink," The leader said, which scared me suddenly, although I didn't know why.  
"I don't want to go with you, I can get a drink when I get back," I shook my head and took a step backwards. "You heard her," Allard went to turn back, but when he saw the Romans still standing there he turned and resumed his position.  
"There's no need for this, the young lady surely wants a drink," The leader said, obviously giving a signal to his men.

The guards fanned out around us in a circle. One then gently prised Allard's hand from my shoulder and the hand was replaced with the leader's hand. I knew that something was wrong the moment Allard was held at sword point when he tried to come after me, to protect me from the Romans. I was puzzled, what could they possibly want with me; I was no good to them. The Roman slowly backed off, dragging me with him. At this panicked and fought.

"I don't want a drink! No let me go! Allard!" I shrieked and fought.

Allard looked after me, the Roman sword still at his throat. He could only watch as I was dragged off to my new and unknown fate. I saw sadness in his eyes. It wasn't just that he had broken the oath to my parents that he would take care of me, and that he would make sure I returned home safely. It wasn't that he had to tell my parents he failed. It was also because he felt for me as he would for his children, he cared for me, and he had to watch me being dragged off.

I fought every step. I made the Roman readjust his grip, her tried to grab me around the waist, I was struggling that much. I managed to break free and run to one of the doors nearest me. I banged on it, pleading and screaming for help. I had no doubt that they knew I was there; they looked out of the window and shook their heads in pity. I screamed at them for help, even as my hair was seized and I was dragged off squalling in pain and holding my hair, anything to lessen the tugging.

I was to later learn that this was no unusual occurrence, people disappearing off the streets, orphans, people who wouldn't be missed. And all the natives knew, and if one managed to escape no one would help them. Their fates now lay with the Romans; to help the fugitives would bring the wrath of the Romans down upon them. So they would look out, pity in their eyes and cross themselves, hoping that God would forgive them for not aiding a soul in need.

I was dragged down to the port. I hadn't been down that part of town, having no need to, and it being rumoured one of the rougher areas of town. I wasn't surprised. I was taken to a small wood building and carelessly thrown in. The door was slammed and locked behind me. I banged on it and screamed, begged and pleaded, and pounded it till my hands were raw and bleeding.

When I could pound no more for the pain, and I had screamed myself hoarse I settled into a corner and looked at my surroundings. At my feet was a floor of planks, so laid that if you looked through the gaps you could see the sea. I pressed my ear to one crack, and could still hear the gentle soothing sound the waves made as they rushed up the beach. It had sounded to me like the sea was sad, it was forever sighing.

I must say that at that period in time it matched my mood. The cry of the seagulls that I could still hear through my prison sounded more like mournful cries of those lamenting the loss of loved ones than the call of birds. I often heard footsteps pass outside the heavy door, and then return. I could not cry out for my throat was so dry and parched.

I scrabbled around then for some refreshment. I found a candle and lit it, before looking around me at my prison more closely. I was looking for a means of escape, any one. I couldn't see one. The only exit was the door I had come through, and I knew that would be guarded at the very least. So I subsided and fell again to my quest to search for some nourishment in this cheerless hovel. I would have loved to decorate it with wall hangings I had made, had I been there under happier circumstances. But I wasn't, so I looked and I saw.

The room was a small square, and I guessed it was some outhouse, perhaps for one of the taverns along the seafront. Heaped in one corner was a pile of straw, which I guessed was meant to be a crude bed. Covering this was a very threadbare blanket. I also saw a bucket in another corner, and could easily guess its purpose. There was nothing else except from a small loaf of bread and a half filled bucket of water. 

I tore into the bread, being ravenously hungry and wanting some form of nourishment. Then I fell onto the water, scooping up handfuls to slurp down. Some of the water trickled down my chin and soaked my shirt. Thus sated I took stock of my situation. I was locked in a room, with only a quarter of a bucket of water and no more food, although my stomach cried for it something rotten.

I don't remember if I slept that night. The sea had brought a chill wind with it, and I lay shivering under the single blanket, in my thin shirt, without even my tunic to warm me. I cried bitterly that night. I could imagine Allard travelling back to my village and having to tell my parents who would be looking out for a sign of me what would happen. I could imagine my mother collapsing into my father's arms in tears, and my father's pale face as he asked details.

The day dawned, and blearily I crept out from underneath the blankets. I managed to swill my mouth out and splash my face with some of the water left to me before they came. I had nothing to brush my hair with, so I no longer even had that basic luxury. Instead they came for me. This time when I resisted I knew only blackness as I was hit sharply across the back of the head.

The Romans had come for me. They were taking me away, just like they had my brother…

Author's note: Gasp! What is going to happen to Kyna? Well I guess you'll have to read on. Indeed the plot thickens. Please take the time to review, all criticism is welcome, I'll just be glad you took the time to review. 


	4. Chapter 3 Worthless

Disclaimer: I only own who I own.

Troyfan16: I'm so sorry you found the last chapter depressing. If you did, you might want to skip this chapter as well, the story might get depressing for a while, but bear with me and it will get better.  
Silver Huntress2: I don't know who the pairings are going to be. Anyone who would like to make a suggestion is more than welcome. KnightMaiden: Don't worry I suppose anyone with a little imagination can find out where the plot is going. We get to find out where Kyna's gone on her travels.  
Raging Raven: I'm glad you enjoy the story. 

Chapter 3 Worthless

I awoke to the mournful cries of the sea birds. The air was heavy with the salt tang that signalled I was either near or on the sea. An unfamiliar rolling sensation made my stomach roil, and I stumbled over to a bucket, before proceeding to empty my stomach of last night's feast of bread and water. The hand that I had placed to find some support for me was resting on rough wood. I also could hear very distantly a rhythmic creaking, and the motion still carried on.

I guessed that I was on a boat. Allard had told me tales from the times he had to sail when he was in service. He told me he had never liked it, and that he never could get used to it. He had also told me about how some people get sick from the motion, although he had never suffered from it. I had said that I never would have any need to find out if I suffered, which I suppose was tempting fate.

Something seemed different about this air than normal sea air. I realised it was because I was enclosed in a long cabin. The doors to the outside world had been fastened shut, and the air had soon staled, taking on not only the salty tang of the sea, but the smell of vomit and excrement. I felt dirty, and wanted to breathe fresh air.

I tried to shuffle forwards, towards the doors, but was checked after I had advanced a few steps by cold iron manacles attached to my ankles. I looked back and saw that the chain was attached to an iron bar that ran the length of the cabin. There were many others, every single chain had a person attached to the end of it. I tired to pull away from everyone in panic, but found myself unable to.

"Settle yourself, it's a long voyage this time of year, and you might as well get settled," a shockingly thin woman from next to me spoke up.  
"I don't want to go on a voyage," I said vehemently.  
"Well whether you want to or not you are lassie," the woman wheezed.  
"What do they want with me?" I asked, feeling growing revulsion at being shut in.  
"It's the slave market for us all," The woman explained in her pragmatic way. "I'm not a slave, I've done nothing wrong!" I exclaimed in shock.  
"We could all say that," The woman fell into a fit of coughing.

After I had learnt my fate I subsided. I didn't talk; I don't think I did very much in those first few days. Apart from be sick. I was very good at that. By the time it had subsided I had become as thin as the woman next to me, unable to eat the meagre portion allotted to me. I could only drink the water that I was given and then wish for more. I felt as if I would die in those days, but as we approached our destination I finally found my sea legs.

The woman who was chained next to me, I discovered had consumption. She knew she had not long left to live, and she knew she would not see freedom before she died. I even learnt that she had no hope of being sold in the slave markets, not even to one of the lowly brothels. She said that was what I had to be careful of, with my beauty.

I said I would never work in such a place. The woman laughed and told me I would go where I was sold and I would do as I was told. Otherwise, she told me I would be flogged, and that was if I had a kindly master. I was worthless, no longer a person, but a thing, to be sold at my master's discretion. I could be killed if my master so wanted and no one would really complain apart from a few do gooders, who never bought slaves.

Well that all meant nothing to me. I asked where we were going and the woman just shrugged. She was so used to being sold and then shipped off it no longer mattered to her. I didn't want that to be me. I didn't want to die of some wasting disease whilst still in slavery. I wanted to try and buy my freedom as quickly as possible. Once I'd done that I felt sure that I would be able to find my way back home, or if not find my brother Kay and be joyfully reunited.

My plans were proved futile by the time we docked. The woman had told me much of the life of a slave, but still she hadn't managed to take the fight out of me. She said it would be better if I lost that, a slave with fight was inviting themselves to be broken, and most masters would take pride in it. Every owner loved parading loyal slaves, and most owners had loyal slaves, if not through kind treatment then through wearing them down with constant beatings.

As soon as the ship docked the main doors were opened and we were allowed to taste fresh air for the very first time. I relished it, although the air seemed so different from her home. The slaves' chains were unlocked, but none were allowed to run, instead we all were strapped together in long rows and forced to shuffle out into the daylight.

After living in relative darkness for more days than I cared to count the sun blinded me with its brightness. I wasn't the only one who stood for a moment. The sky was beautifully clear, but I hated it, as it allowed the sun to shine down on us in its full unadulterated force. I just kept my hair down as the human chain shuffled slowly to the slave market where we were to be offloaded.

Once reached, there was little difference from the stinking ships. The captain was paid for his cargo, and the slave market was going to make a profit on our heads. In the meantime we were kept in pens, with a few mouldering piles of straw. We were again chained, but this time to an iron hoop embedded in the stone wall. There was no way I was going to manage to pull that out.

They came round and looked at us, checking our teeth and feet, much as you would an animal. I was proscribed fine for work, although perhaps a little on the thin side, although that could soon be remedied. I was ordered to take a bath, and was given a rough working dress which chafed at my skin. My old clothes were taken away, and I guess they must have been burnt, for I never saw them again.

The next day came all too soon. We were woken early in the morning and all were bidden to wash. Once that had happened we were all given a new set of clothes, this was to ensure we were free from fleas. Then our hairs were combed with fine toothed bone combs, to ensure that we had no lice. I was sure that if I had caught them it would be the fault of either the room, the ship or the pen, for I had never had lice before, not in my old life.

And then we were paraded on a platform, in front of greedy buyers. A few, a very select few were allowed up onto the platform, to give us much the same treatment as we had the evening before. I was sorely tempted to bite the fingers that prodded into my mouth, but didn't, it surely would have meant a beating. I, once so proud, was now reduced to a thing, no longer a free person who would run across fields on the back of her mare.

The bidding went on awhile, and then it came to my turn. I had many buyers, most from the brothels, wanting a pretty face to attract the men. Although none of them got me. In the end it was a Roman lady, who was looking for a pretty slave to do jobs about the house. I wasn't best pleased about this, but was happier than if I was going into a brothel. So I was paid for in salt, a block the size of my foot, and the transaction was complete. I was now my new owner's property.

I was taken to a grand villa, where I saw women dressed in finer cloth than I was wearing, scrubbing the mosaics of the unused rooms, even the ones in the courtyard! I was shocked at that; surely it would be a daily job. The lady informed me it was a daily job, and that it would be one of my tasks to help clean the mosaic floor outside every morning before the family rose, and every evening, after everyone had gone to bed. I hadn't asked her, I had learnt already you don't talk to your masters.

I was taken by a servant to the smiths. At any other time in my life I would have loved to be there. But I wasn't there to work. I was there to have my slave bracelets fitted, showing that I was a slave. Attached to these ugly circles of metal were iron hoops, for being chained up if your owner had such a mind. Also was a unique number emblazoned, and it was recorded in a book, so that if I ever was caught somewhere I shouldn't I would be punished by my owners.

I hated those bracelets. It burnt when they were welded onto my wrists, and I knew that they were melted to my flesh, so that it would take a miracle to get them off. And they were so tight, and they chafed and rubbed, so that I knew that my skin would blister, and I would find no respite, for I could not take them off to rub some soothing cream on them.

The next morning I was woken at dawn. I had to creep quietly down to the courtyard and begin to scrub, all without making too much noise. I couldn't sing as I loved to do, not could I talk amongst the other slaves, we had to be silent. Our job was finished just as we caught the first glimpse of the lord. We all took our buckets and fled then, I learnt you always left when you saw a member of the lord's family. Either that or politely sidle out a room where they were, do as you were bidden or talk if talked to.

Those first few months were hard. The hours were long, and I was unused to them. Also I was unused to the backbreaking hours of hard labour. In the beginning I woke exhausted and I went to bed exhausted. In the end I got used to it, although the shadows never really left from underneath my eyes, and I got used to living with constant tiredness. 

Later on I was to learn that my Lord was a famous general, and was often away for months at a time on long campaigns. And so we were to be the ones who never told of the lovers the lady had whilst he was away. She had countless men at her beck and call, she was a beauty amongst the court, and everyone said that she was old. I did not count thirty years to be old for a woman, but then I learnt a lot of things were different living in Rome.

I was careful never to appear too forward in male company. This often meant appearing shy or giving answerers which were shorter than the ones required, but they amused some, who thought my shyness wasn't shyness at all. So I soon had to adopt an air of disinterestedness, I really had no problems then. If I did I was always careful to dissuade without using extreme force. Had I used severe force I would end up with a severe flogging, perhaps even death, unless it was another slave and then he would be executed.

I had gotten over the confusion as to my whereabouts pretty quickly. Some people looked down on me when I had asked where I was. Luckily enough I was a slave, and all slaves were predicted to be stupid. I played along with it; I didn't want to seem for a moment like I knew too much. It also did help when I was set tasks which I really had no idea how to do; I had to be taught like you would teach a child.

Eventually there were no more excuses, I knew all my chores, and knew them well. I forgot about my dreams of escape, they disappeared much as a wisp of cloud would. I was always too tired to think about it. Soon I clear forgot about them. I was deadened to the world around me, not even the chores I did seemed to matter to me. Life really had no meaning, one day blurred into another, the days blurred into months, and the months into years. I really had lost count of the time I had been there.

Home became no more than a distant memory. When I had time in the evenings, and I hadn't immediately fallen into sleep, I would look out to the North, towards my home. I always imagined the people I knew, and what they would be doing. It saddened me thinking about it, so eventually I stopped. I had grieved for my past life and now it was time to move on.

Time dragged on at its relentless pace, leaving us all to keep up. One day something happened that surprised even me, and made me feel that perhaps life would be worth living.

Author's note: I hope you all are still enjoying this. I would be grateful if you took the time to review, even if it is criticism. And lastly of all I thank everyone for taking the time to read this story, it means a lot to know people like reading your work. 


	5. Chapter 4 Who Knew

Disclaimer: I still only own my own characters, although I really would love to own more, I don't.

Raging Raven: I'm glad you're enjoying it, I hope you continue to.  
KnightMaiden: I'm glad you think it's so good. Now I'm not going to tell you, but your guess was wrong. I guess you'll have to read on to find out what happens.

Note: I have invented the illness mentioned, which is perfectly curable if treated. But I do own the illness, unless it is real, and then I don't own it. But I do think I invented it. Anyway…

Chapter 4 Who Knew

I think it was a few years after I had arrived that Freya arrived. She was different from the rest of us; she had been like I was when I had arrived. Everyone looked on her with pity, except me. I looked on at her with interest. I recognised something of my spirit in her bright blue eyes, and something deep within me stirred. I knew what it was to feel those things she was feeling then.

She looked over all of us with contempt in her eyes. I shook my head at that, I recognised myself in that gaze. Of course in reality, Freya looked nothing like me. She was tall and had curves in all the right places. Her long hair was a pale blonde, so pale it almost seemed impossibly bright as the sun shone down like a bright beacon.

She already wore the jewellery of our station, and yet she seemed not to be hampered by them. It was almost as if she wore them instead of them wearing her, proclaiming what she was to the world. In between the two iron hoops of her bracelet was a thick chain of bound iron. I walked up to her, something of a smith's curiosity, and held the iron chain between my hands, letting it pass through my fingers.

Freya shifted impatiently, and I heard the clank of yet more chains. I looked down to see her feet were chained as well. This puzzled me; I had never seen anyone before who had the same bracelets on her ankles as well as on her wrists. As I looked up puzzled, she seemed to glare at me, daring me to ask her how she got them. I would have done as well; I had opened my mouth to talk.

At that moment the Lady swept down into the courtyard, saw Freya and stopped dead. She walked across and examined Freya much as I had been examined at the slave market. Throughout it all Freya stood as tall as she had before. Her eyes had emptied themselves of all emotion, she stood almost as still as a statue.

I had stepped back as soon as the lady had appeared and had gotten back to my work, as had many other servants. I was tending to the garden in which Freya was standing when my Lord swept in, back from one of his long campaigns. He smiled and greeted his wife fondly. I noticed that the Lady was not so pleased to see him; she would have to break off her latest affair.

"Do you not like her?" The Lord asked, worry creasing his face.  
"She is unusual, but why the leg chains?" The lady asked.  
"All the slaves in the North have them, otherwise they'll escape." My lord explained.

At this the lady sniffed, before turning around, looking for something. She spotted me and beckoned me forward. I bowed and kept my head bowed slightly, in respect, as I approached. When I did arrive at my Lady's side she seized my face with her hand and forced me to look up. She scrutinised my face, before a sneer contorted her face, and she dropped my face.

"She's from the north." The Lady swept a hand in my direction.  
"From Sarmatia though, am I correct?" My Lord asked me.  
"Answer him." My Lady commanded as I thought for a few moments.  
"Indeed sir." I answered saying nothing more.  
"So you see she's got to be better behaved than the other barbarians." My Lord spoke, ignoring the flash of anger that passed over my features.  
"My dear, I tire in this heat, do you not want refreshment?" My Lady asked. "Certainly, but what of the other girl?" My Lord asked, indicating Freya.  
"The girl can take care of her, she'll be her charge, and her first job is to take her to the smith to get the chains removed, she'll not be good for work otherwise." The Lady ordered me.

I bowed in acquiescence. When I stood I saw the other girl, who I did not then know was Freya, glaring after the Lady I knew then that my Lady had found an enemy amongst her slaves. She hadn't many loyal slaves, she treated us too much like dirt for that. But on sight the blonde woman, I knew, had formed a hatred of her that would run deeper than any kindness the lady could pay her. This was a hatred of the person, a hatred of their very soul.

I did as I was bid. I must admit I was glad of a chance to enter the smith's shop again. It seemed so like home, and awoke pangs that I had quelled for so long. I felt tears fill my eyes as I looked around at the tools that used to be a part of my everyday life, something that I had taken for granted. Before I realised it I held a metal sword out in front of me, testing it.

I spun and dropped the sword as I realised that both Freya and the smith were looking at me. I felt a blush flame across my cheeks and I bent down and scrambled for the sword in the dirt. When I picked it up and placed it down I saw the smith looking at me with calculation in his eyes. I didn't like that look. I had seen it before, and it had lead me places I never would have even dreamed of going.

I left soon after that with my companion. The smith had felt like an enclosed space after that. I had hankered after air, even if it wasn't the one that I had grown up with. The pangs barely left me as we approached the villa, and I felt tightness in my chest that made it hard to breathe. I placed a hand on my chest, and tried to take a deep breath, and cried out quietly as pain blossomed across my chest.

My companion turned at that, and seeing my distress she lifted me. Later on she told me that it was because I was so light that I was so easy to lift. I didn't deny it, I hadn't eaten well, we were fed very little, and I had lost what little weight I had. I was worryingly thin, although I didn't know it, having not looked in a mirror for so long.

I remember very little for a few hours in between that. I must have passed out; I have snatches of memory, being laid down on my small pallet in the small room that I had lived in. I remember water being poured down my throat. Burning in my throat, and coughing. Coughing up some black substance. Then lying back, exhausted, and dozing, not peacefully, disturbed by painful dreams of my home.

I eventually woke to see a man leaning over me. It was strange, I didn't even know who he was, and I went to struggle, especially as he was in the room where I slept. He laid a cooling hand on my forehead, and gently explained who he was. He told me he was the physician and that he had come to see why I had collapsed. I told him it was nothing and that I should get back to work otherwise I would be punished.

He frowned at that. He told me he had been sent for by one of the servants, which meant that the lady and lord must know I collapsed. I shook my head to refute what he was saying and he frowned in puzzlement. He then asked if they even knew that I had collapsed to which I shook my head, and answered that if I did not get back to work soon then they would know, and I would get a beating.

That seemed to worry the physician, and he told me that it may be hard for me to work ever again. I asked him what he meant and he said that there was something seriously wrong with me. I asked him what it was, but he wouldn't tell me. He said that it was not for me to know yet what was wrong with me. I answered that it was rubbish, and had as much right at any to know what was wrong with my body, but the physician told me that I was only a slave, and that it was not my place.

Later on the physician went to see the master and mistress. I don't know what he told them, but I know he told them what was wrong with me, and that was what I was interested in. It was killing me not knowing. I had to be physically restrained by Freya, to stop me from either going and demanding what was wrong with me, or of getting up and working like I knew I should be.

I eventually learnt what was wrong with me. I had the lung rot, which I knew could be fatal, would be fatal, unless it was treated. Little did I know that the treatment involved total rest and taking noxious potions until all the rot had been brought out of my lungs. Rest was the one luxury I barely had enough of. I barely had enough time to sleep, let alone enough time to just laze around until I got better.

Well, as you can guess when I asked around about lung rot I found out that it was most often slaves who died of it. This didn't surprise me. I knew in that instant that I would die. It would be slow, and painful, my body would slowly be starved of the air it needed, until there would be nothing I could do. What made it so ironic was that others would survive.

So I did all I could. I worked, and I tried to forget about my troubles. It was hard, when I would soon become out of breath doing a task that until that point I had been able to do with ease. I couldn't walk long distances without a rest, as soon I became out of breath. And I was always coughing. I couldn't help it, and when I coughed my lungs ejected some of the rot, but not enough, never enough. I could feel myself dying, feel myself slipping away.

In those dark times Freya has a beacon of hope. She carried any heavy objects that I was expected to carry, and she did things for me that I had not the strength to do. She kept my spirits up by telling me stories of her homeland. In return I told her tales of my homeland. I told her of my brother, in some far off country with only a slim chance of him ever returning.

Freya said that one day, when we were both free that we would travel and find my brother. She also said that I would become both a famous smith and jeweller, but I laughed at that. I told her that I was out of practice, I had not made something as simple as a sword or an arrowhead for what felt like an age, let alone work with beads and metal to make jewellery.

Freya said that my hands would never forget how to do those things, especially since I had done them since such a young age. I asked her what her skill was, and she said she was simply a warrior. I told her that she had a very honourable skill, but that would only get her so far in life. I promised her that if we were free, and I did get a shop then I would teach her how to make weapons and jewellery. She laughed at that, and only held up her large hands in answer. I told her that was no excuse, and that she would learn from me.

As time passed I felt my strength ebb away from me. I hid it as best I could from Freya. I knew she would take it hard, we had become the best of friends in the shortest period of time. I think it must have been something to do with the fact we complimented each other. Some things about us were the same, and yet in other aspects we were so different. It was fun talking to her, even though she appeared silent at first, once you got to know her you knew how talkative she could be.

So I didn't tell her, and I tried not to let it show. I was so tired, and it hurt to move, but still I managed to act as normal. My coughing fits were getting worse and worse, and soon I could barely breathe without setting off another coughing fit. Everyone else knew, and eventually I knew it would come to the attention of Freya.

One day I could not get up. My limbs felt as if they were crafted out of the heaviest metal. I could barely lift an arm. I opened my mouth and gasped for air. My throat was parched, but I could not reach for water. I looked down at myself. My ribs stood out prominently against my skin. I didn't want to live anymore, the pain was too much, and it hurt just to breathe. My chest rattled as I drew in a few shallow breaths, I could breathe very little anymore.

I closed my eyes, and even that small exertion tired me. I felt sure then that I would never open them again. I wondered what I looked like, lying there quietly. I felt myself being lifted, supported by strong arms. I knew then that Freya knew. There was no use in trying to hide it. I couldn't say goodbye, I was finding it hard to breathe. I couldn't even open my eyes, nor hold my friends hands.

She begged and pleaded with me to stay, just a few days longer, and that we would find some way to get the cure to me. I didn't believe that. I was a slave. I was nothing. I was something that could be worked until I had no more use and then my broken body would be discarded. There would be no memento of my life, nothing that my family could visit. I was alone, far from my home, with no way of ever getting back there.

I tasted Freya's tears. I think I cried then too. I cried for my parents who would never see me again, and had very little hope of ever seeing Kay again. I cried for Kay, bound to be taken away from his family by a bond that he had never made. I cried for myself, that lost little girl who would never see the green plains of her home again. I also cried for Freya, my good friend whom I was going to leave utterly alone.

I wanted to open my eyes when entreated to, I really did. I wanted to see the sunrise one last time. I wanted to race on a fast mare, with the wind in my hair. I thought that I never would get to see these things. With that knowledge I surrendered myself to the darkness that was surrounding me.

And I fell into the darkness…

Author's note: I hope you've all enjoyed reading this so far. I'm sorry if its all seeming a little rushed. I would like it if you were to review, although if you don't I don't mind. I would just like to say thank you to everyone who at least takes the time to read this, and I thank you even more if you take time to review. 


	6. Chapter 5 Unwritten

Disclaimer: I only own what I own, which right now is most of the story and characters.

**Raging Raven**: Still glad you're enjoying my writing. Of course she's going to live. It would kind of make the story line I had planned redundant otherwise.  
**kdawn7**: I hope that you think the story turns out well. Don't worry about reviewing all the time, just knowing you'll take the time to keep up with my story is enough for me.  
**I love horses**: Hang on a minute; you'll have to wait a little while for me to update. But I'm really glad you're enjoying it.

Chapter 5 Unwritten

I heard something that I had not heard in a while. Birdsong. It broke through my dreamlike trance and woke my senses in a way they hadn't been awake in a while. With that simple melody sounding in my ear I thought that I must have died and gone to heaven. All my pain had gone; I could breathe normally without pain for the first time in what felt like ages. I had no urges to cough.

I opened my eyes and was greeted with a sight which made me pause for a moment to wonder if I was in heaven. I was in a room, which compared to the one I had been in before, was large, even though it was of moderate size. I was no longer lying on a bed of straw; I was lying on a bed, with a proper stuffed mattress and a soft pillow under my head. Over me were laid warm woollen blankets, although I scare needed them in the warmth of the room.

None of the wonderfully furnished room made me question whether I had died or not. It was not in the chair that had been laid beside my bed. It was what was in the chair that made me question. Curled up, asleep was Freya. I almost cried out in joy, but it came out more as a croak than anything else. This made Freya stir in her chair.

She opened her eyes and smiled when she saw me awake. She reached over and poured a glass of water from a jug that was resting on a small vanity. She helped me to sit up, as if I had already forgotten how to, and allowed a little water to trickle down my throat. I went to drink more, but Freya had already taken it away, and instead she forced some vile smelling substance in front of me. I had to drink it; there was nothing else I could do.

After I had swallowed I felt sick and began to cough. Freya patiently moved again, placing the tea down and holding a clay dish in front of my mouth. As I coughed I brought up some kind of mucus that was black. I recognised it as the same substance that I had been coughing up for a while. Once I had finished Freya placed the dish down and allowed me a few sips of the water, after making me wash out my mouth.

"I'm obviously not in heaven," my voice sounded husky with long disuse.   
"Well I would hope not, otherwise I'd have to join you," Freya smiled jokingly.  
"I'm hungry," as I spoke my stomach rumbled.  
"I'm not surprised, it's been a month," Freya smiled as she stood.

I was shocked by that. Freya told me that whilst I had been passed out a wealthy general friend of our owner took an interest in me in the fact that he wanted to see me treated. So he bought both Freya and I, deciding she would be of use to me as a nurse. They had been feeding me the same tea throughout the month of my illness, and that my lungs had begun to clear.

That was the best news. I thought it meant that I would soon be back to living my life as well as I could before. Although Freya was quick to dispel any illusions that I had on that part. I had to get my strength back, which meant I might be bedridden for weeks. After that it would take years for me to get my strength up to what it used to be. Still, even after that I would sometimes experience some discomfort, considering how advanced my illness had been when I was treated.

I didn't like that idea, but I had to get used to it. I was a very active person, and to sit and lie around for days on end would drive me mad, that I knew. But the general we had fallen in with had predicted that, and had prepared accordingly. I was then in my eighteenth summer, either that or very close to it. I had not learnt to either read or write, and since it would take a long time for me to learn I was to learn whilst bedridden.

It wasn't easy. Sometimes I would be so annoyed I would throw away all my waxed tablet and stylus as far as I could in disgust. It was not the writing that annoyed me; it was my inability to learn it. My teacher, Byron, was very patient with me, and would not let my tantrums put him off. He would often leave me when I had one, to stop him from getting hurt, but otherwise we carried on as normal.

Freya would join me in the evenings, and she would struggle with her letters and reading, whilst I would sit and sew or some other small thing. I soon longed to weave the fine patterns that I once did. So I asked for a loom and was granted one. The loom was large enough to allow me to get up and move a little, without exerting myself.

I was an awful patient. I would barely do as I was told by the doctors and the physicians. Only when I was seriously in danger of over exerting myself, did they tell my lord, who came to see me. He was a typical Roman in appearance, although his dark hair had begun to turn silver, but still he carried it off well, and he did not appear to be all that old. He told me off then, and said that I had to do as I was told; otherwise I would not get better.

So I settled down, and eventually I was allowed to walk around the house. I was still not allowed to go great distances, just down to the garden and back, but even that felt like an achievement and had me tired out. Eventually though I managed to go down to the garden and back without needing to sit in the garden. Then I started to explore the house proper, or the servants' quarters at any rate. My new master was very kind and often came to see me, perhaps just to talk.

One day I noticed that Freya was no longer wearing her slave bracelets, or anklets, and I asked her about them. She told me she had been down to the smithy to have them taken off. Well I demanded to know everything about the smithy, every detail I could garner was put to use in my plan. Freya I think, had become at least a free woman, and now she was a servant in this house.

She told me what the servants had told her, that there were no slaves here. The only reason I was still wearing my bracelets was simply because I was not strong enough to go down to the smithy. My work, when completed, was taken down and sold in the local market. With the money I earned I sent Freya down to the market to buy shells and beads for me, so I could begin to make necklaces and other such trinkets.

Soon enough I had a small amount of money set by. By the time I had stored it I was allowed to take a wagon down to the town to buy things for myself. People were willing to buy my things, but it was not what I really wanted to do. So one afternoon I found myself wandering in search of the smithy. I found it without a good deal of hard work, as it was just outside the marketplace.

I didn't dare go in, but stored instead where it was, and went back. I later asked Freya about the smith, and found out that the smith himself was employed directly by the general. Wherever the general went his smith had to go, to look after his weapons and other such things. He also had to shoe horses, which peaked my interest since I hadn't seen any horses in a long while, as our cart was pulled by mules.

Eventually I ended up in the smithy, to have my bracelets taken off. By that time I was allowed to go pretty much wherever I wanted. The general came with me, to see that the removal was properly and smoothly. I knew that my cuffs had been put on wrong; they had caught and seared the skin to them, and had been far too tight, so that I knew I would bear the scars for the rest of my days. Still I had not prepared myself for it, and it hurt to have them taken off.

I had salve for the rubs and for the burns where my skin had been welded to the metal. They soon faded from their bright red to white lines which stood out and marked me as a once slave. I discovered most in the house had once been slaves, but had been freed. I myself was the only one who bore any outward scars that were visible, many bore the marks of flogging, and there are mental scars which will never truly go away.

I still longed for my smithy work. I one day looked in a mirror and saw a woman before me whereas before I had seen a girl. I had grown into my height now that I had plenty of food, so instead of looking unhealthy with bones sticking out I now had flesh on me. I was neither thin nor was I too round. I had struck the perfect balance between the two.

With my weight came my strength, until one day it was declared that I no longer needed physicians to call on me at all, unless of course there were any repeats of my illness. I was overjoyed at this, and so was Freya, for all my peevish moods stopped as soon as I was allowed to do my own thing. I was still mad from time to time, but that can't be helped. We all get angry from time to time.

I was still too scared to go to the smithy and just take up tools as I had done before, even though Freya assured me both the general and the smith knew of my talents. I blanched slightly at that. I had never told Freya that I had any particular skill with it, just that I could do metal work. Freya had assumed the rest; she said she garnered the information from my other work.

In the end it took the smith coming to see me in the market, and telling me that he wanted to see what I could do, to get me to enter the shop. Once I did I looked at the metals on display. I had my idea set on a design for myself, and was just looking for the ideal metal. I knew that iron wouldn't work, it would remind me too much of my slave bracelets however prettily it was decorated. Silver and gold were not what I wanted.

So in the end I settled on bronze. It didn't take me long to hammer it into shape. Two curved bracelets took shape under my hands. They were to cover the scars that marred my skin. Once I had the basic shape I took to the difficult part of the work, which would be designing a pattern for them, that wouldn't look too out of place.

In the end I settled for roses twining around the edges with a large rose in the centre. They were beautiful, and absorbed a lot of my time with their intricacy. They also absorbed a lot of my concentration. When they were finished I slipped them on and they covered my scars beautifully. Even the smith was surprised by my work. There was some small satisfaction for me in a job well done.

Eventually I managed to fall into the pattern much that my life had taken when I was living with my parents. I would do smith and jewellery crafting during the day, and in the evenings I would sit with the other servants and either weave, sew or make beaded necklaces. I wasn't very good at carving, like my brother was, my hands for all the other tricks they had acquired always fumbled when holding wood.

I found more and more often my thoughts turning to my brother and my quest of finding him. I knew it would be incredibly different, if not impossible. I thought of him as I had last seen him, scare more than a boy. And yet sitting up on his horse he had seemed miles and miles away from me. Now though, that distance was real, not just imagined. I had no idea how on earth I was going to begin to breach that gap.

Summer bled into winter, and winter into summer. Years flew by, and I was scarcely aware of it. I in myself grew and changed. I became more and more introverted as I thought of my brother. I only talked to Freya of my brother, and my longing to go and find him. She was a sensitive listening ear, and yet sometimes even she tired of my moods, and would snap at me. It hurt every time she did it, I did not expect such anger from my gentle friend.

The only constant in my life was my work. Whatever the season, most days I could be found in the forge, doing some small job or other. Ladies came from far and wide to see the beauty of my wares. They bought them, and paid well for them. I never seemed enough to make my dream of journeying a reality. I had no idea of where my brother was he could be in any part of the empire.

So still I worked. Every time I made an arrow I thought of that bright shining bolt that I had spent days pouring my heart and the very essence of my working soul into. I had prayed over it that it would keep my brother safe. I almost made it a good luck charm for him. I knew there was no way the arrow would fly; it was simply a gift, a small trinket to keep him through the hardest times in his life.

Whenever I made a sword I thought of Kay and father, pouring all their effort into making Kay's sword. As metal turned into decorated swords beneath my hands I thought of the sword that I would have loved to have made for Kay, had I the skill. Every sword I made I poured a little of my love into, as I did with everything I made, and I wished one day to have the chance to give one to Kay.

As I weaved I thought of all the things I had woven for Kay. I would have loved to have woven my story, but I had not the skill like my mother had. Instead I could only pattern things, and embroider on in bright colours. It would have been incredibly time consuming for me to embroider my story, so I left it, as I had so many other projects in my past.

Soon whispers of unrest in Britannia spread throughout the empire. I hardly looked up from my work as I heard people discussing the woads that were hardly of interest to me. One day I heard something that stopped me dead in my tracks. A lady said something about Arthur and his Sarmatian knights stopping the invasion. I stopped dead, and stared, until I realised I was being rude, collected myself, apologised and got back on with my work.

All the time I was planning how to get to Britain. It was winter, and so any travel across the Alps had been made impossible until spring. I laid my plans with Freya. In the spring we would take our leave and go to Britain. If my brother was not there then there would surely be some clue as to his whereabouts, and from there we could carry on our investigation.

If needs be I would work as a smith to finance our trip. Freya would come along as my companion and as a bodyguard for me, she said with a smile. I said I was no lady, and as such I would not need a bodyguard. At that Freya said a friend and companion, and I agreed. If needs be we could sell ourselves, I was good with a bow, and Freya with a sword. I knew we would get where we needed to be eventually.

Fate, though, intervened as she often does. She decided it would be the general who would be sent to Britannia to help Arthur quell the uprising. And the general would need his personal smith. I was asked to go by the general, who I know expected me to loosen my ties to him and travel home to see my family once again. I did nothing of the sort, and begged to stay with him as his smith. I said I would find work in the North if needs be.

But Lysander wouldn't hear of it. He said that wherever he had work I would have work. In a sense that meant that he took responsibility for me, as a younger and less experienced smith. Although, Lysander seemed to think that it would more be me who took responsibility for my work, being too old for the custom of apprenticing, and anyway I had already learnt my crafts, and learnt them well.

The winter was full of preparations. Everyone was busy. The soldiers in the garrison at the town, who were to come with us, wanted to make sure that their armour was in the best of condition. Some wanted new swords, javelins and arrows. But that wasn't Lysander's and my only work. We also had to look through the wagons that would be used and pin or fix anything that wasn't.

I also looked through the stables to see which horses I thought would be good for different purposes. It wasn't very difficult, and I could see that my lord had an eye for horseflesh. And yet whenever I went in the stable I yearned for my own mare Fleetwind, who could race tirelessly for hours upon end, taking me wherever I wanted to go. I knew by now she must have forgotten about me, she must have had another rider to take care of her and love her.

Towards the end of winter we set off for Rome. Once there we would stay there for a few months, before starting our journey. If we were lucky we would reach Britain at the end of spring, or if we were very unlucky we would reach Britain in time for autumn. Seasons meant nothing to us really in Italy. It was just a way of telling you what to sow when. There were colder periods in winter, but nothing really fantastic.

Also when in Rome, we would buy furs and other things that we would need for what I was told would be a cold wet British winter. I thought they were joking; nowhere on earth could possibly be as wet as they made it out to be. But more often than not these rumours weren't as exaggerated as I had first thought, although they had been stretched a little.

Eventually it became just a matter of waiting for the passes to open. The general had to go around all the houses, and to all the parties he was invited to, it would have been a slight if he hadn't gone, especially considering he was going to be spending a good few years in Britain, and it would have been terrible if he had neglected anyone.

He often came into the shop where we, Lysander and I, were working, after one of these parties. He and Lysander were good friends, and so would sit and gossip about the parties and people at them. These insights into the life of the Roman elite were often as funny as they were shocking. I learnt that my late lady's behaviour was well known by her husband, but he tolerated it because he was away for such long periods of time, and she would not go with him, loving the society in Rome.

I even learnt the general's real name. He said he would not have me calling him sir, as I was free now, and an equal to him, as we all were. He told me to call him Calix. I said that I would do as he asked, but only when we were amongst friends, otherwise it would injure propriety, and it would not be seemly for one such as myself to be seen talking to him as an equal, otherwise people might get ideas and talk about me behind my back.

Eventually it was time to move up to the mountain paths. I was starting to hate living in Rome, I had seen the grime under the veneer as soon as I had stepped in there the second time, the first time I was kept shut up in a villa. The rich seemed to be getting richer, whilst the poor seemed to be getting poorer. I often wondered if the rich were getting that way at the expense of the poor.

Apart from the general I was only introduced to one man who seemed to care, not just about slaves, but about the poor citizens of the Roman Empire. He was Pelagius, and he seemed to know the man at the wall the General was to meet, Arthur Castus. He had also been there when the knights arrived. I quizzed him as to whether a boy matching my brother's description. Pelagius answered my question to the affirmative, and asked why I should want to know.

I told him that he was my brother, and it had been many years since I had seen him. Pelagius sympathised with me then, saying how unfair that it was that brothers and sons should be taken from their families to serve a debt that had not been made by them. We often talked of the injustices, which brought him onto how I got to be in Rome. I told him my story, and he looked shocked.

I answered his outrage with the answer that I could be dead now, but I wasn't. I was free again now, and could do as I wished to some extent. Pelagius said that I should never lose the ability to see the best in a worse situation; it would bring some comfort to people when they needed it, and perhaps one day I again might be in need of it for myself.

I would have like to have known Pelagius better than I got to in those few months. I felt that I had found so many friends, and had so much to be thankful for. But the time came when we had to leave Rome for the north, and Britannia.

Author's note: Thank you for reading firstly. I would like you to review, but don't feel you have to, any criticism is welcome, so please don't be afraid of telling me if you think there is some aspect in which I can improve my work.


	7. Chapter 6 A Little Ray of Sunshine

**KnightMaiden**: I'm glad you can't wait for this to be updated.

**Raging Raven**: I think by now Kyna's is 20 and she was 14 when she was taken and her brother left when she was 12. So by the end of the knight's service she should be 27. I hope that answers your question.

**xorie5**: I'm glad you think that the story is interesting and I hope you still enjoy.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to say that I own everything I don't own, I'm afraid that that would be a terrible falsehood and lie, and as such would not be true. So I only own the characters that I do own.

Author's note: For those of you who are reading this, and wanted a speedier update I am sure that I have to apologise. It's just that we got a new computer, and then my dad went and lost the chapter that I had written so far! Ah well, here you are the second version of chapter 6.

Chapter 6

A little ray of sunshine

We travelled a long time. I must admit I enjoyed seeing so many different lands, meeting so many different people and hearing so many different languages. Some of us in the party dropped off in different lands most found their families as far as I knew. The general was generous and helped them to find families. For those who couldn't find their families they stayed with the general, he was more than generous to all of us.

Every time someone failed to find their family they would come back with pain burning in their eyes. I felt that same pain in my heart every time I saw someone reunited with their family. I wanted that to be me so badly. I wanted my mother to hug me, tears streaming down her face. I wanted my father to pat me on the back and say I'd looked after myself well. I wanted everyone in my village to stand around.

I think Freya knew what I was feeling and she sympathised. But she confided in me that she was the last of her village. The last thing she remembered was her village in flames as she was dragged off. She was haunted by the screams of the innocent women and children. All the men had died on the battlefield. We were both hurting every time we saw a joyful reunion, so we learnt to comfort each other.

Sometimes I would have given up the quest to find my brother to just buy a fast horse and race home. Freya would remind me then that I had not seen my brother since we were both children. So I learnt to harden my heart slightly to the sad feelings, and began to feel glad that people were re-united with their families.

Soon we passed into Britain. That was when I became nervous and very often fractious. We would often stop for weeks in towns, gathering information, before we travelled on. I hated those stops, and everyone began to creep around me, wary of my sudden mood swings. I was nervous that my brother wouldn't recognise me, and that he would have changed so much.

The moods passed, partly due to Freya's ordering me to stop. I had been told by the physicians not to get too worked up, otherwise I might pass out, but that didn't stop me. Until of course I had to spend time on my own with nothing to do, just to calm me. I hated being alone, ever since I had been freed I dreaded being alone as I had felt then, when I was sure I was going to die.

So eventually my fear overcame everything else, and I began to enjoy seeing the places we stopped at. I liked looking around and seeing the natives walking alongside Romans. I loved hearing not only Latin. It was something different from all my experiences and I drank them up like a thirsty man would wine. Freya laughed at me, and said my innocence of the world as a whole was strangely refreshing.

Every town we stopped in I went to the horse markets. I wanted to see if I could find a steed like Fleetwind, who had carried me for so much of her life. It pained me to see how some horses were treated, their minds broken so that they were good for nothing except turning into meat. My heart went out to each and every horse in that situation, but they were not what I was looking for.

I found him eventually. He was a gelding, but still acted sometimes like he was a stallion. I suppose the pride came from his unusual appearance. He was black with a white mane and tail. I fell in love with him on sight. He had been mistreated by his last owner, and hated men. This was a problem, because most of the buyers were men. He didn't have a problem with me. I adored him from first sight, as I have said, and I don't think he had a problem with it.

I walked up and examined him to check my suspicions that he was a fine piece of horseflesh. He was even more beautiful close up. I found it hard to understand how anyone would ever want to mistreat him. I enquired if he had problems with other horses, and he had none. He looked me in the eye with his large chocolate brown ones and I knew I was sold. So I put in my bid, and I bought him.

I must say Lysander and Freya thought me quite mad. I must admit the idea did cross my mind. Especially when he was being difficult, the horse I mean, not Lysander. I came to name the horse Shadow, and a strong bond grew between me and him, as strong a one as I had had with Fleetwind, my mare. It pained me that I would never see or ride her again, but I had my Shadow now, and he needed me more than she did.

Shadow was a lot of work. It was very difficult getting him used to Freya, and Lysander's wife. He had no problem with Lysander's children though, he loved them. To them he was their big pony and they were forever begging rides on him. Lysander's oldest boy was fifteen, and Shadow was wary of him, knowing he was not a man, but knowing he was not a child. Eventually he accepted him, but it took a lot of effort on the part of us humans.

I even managed to get Shadow to let Lysander feed and shoe him. Anything else and he would kick, bite and rear until I was near him. It was even a job for me to calm him, but one I relished. I loved it when he would look to me at the end of the day after I had ridden him to brush him down and take off his tack. Everyone learnt early on to leave Shadow alone.

Finally we had woven our way up the country to the last town before the wall. It was here we heard the rumours of woads raiding caravans. I didn't like the reports, and was careful to make extra arrows for every man, as well as some for myself. The general ordered every man and boy who could shoot or wield a sword to be armed. It shocked Lysander to see his son demand arrows and a sword, but he didn't complain. We all knew the danger.

Perhaps the general was not quite aware of how bad this danger was. He was determined to press on north, without Arthur Castus to escort him. Everyone warned him against this, but he wouldn't listen. He said he wanted to be at the wall as quickly as possible, to be where he was needed. We all told him it wasn't that imperative, a few more days would make no difference, but he wouldn't listen.

Lysander knew the general wouldn't listen. He stopped adding his voice to the clamour early on. He knew the general well enough, as I have said before. He knew when Calix would not listen, but would press on because he believed it would impede his duty otherwise. I said that was silly, but Lysander said that was they way of the Romans, they were honourable to their own people if nothing else. When I asked him about other people and how the Romans acted he just shook his head.

It turned out that we should have heeded the warnings. We were all prepared for ambushes, but not when it came. At the time we had stopped because one of the wagons had lost a wheel. I and Lysander were called to repair it, and we rushed, knowing full well that while we were still we were vulnerable to attack. A few of the soldiers had said that the woads were too stupid and would let this opportunity pass them by.

Freya and I knew better. We both came from supposedly inferior races who knew how to fight. We knew how to ambush, and we knew when people were at their most vulnerable. I knew nothing of the woads, but I thought it would be hard for them to miss when we were vulnerable. I was right and the soldiers were proved wrong.

We had stopped at the worst possible place. There was dense forest to our left. There was a river in front of it, yes, but I was sure that if people wanted to find a way across then they could. We were not unarmed, but I knew that they could fight on their terms from the forest. I was afraid of what would happen. I still had my quiver strapped to my back, my sword at my side, and my knife in my boot as we were doing the repairs.

They waited until we were nearly ready. Lysander and I had located the problem quickly and sorted it out as quickly as the job we had to do allowed. And then, when we were about to set off they came pouring out of the woodland suddenly. They were painted blue, and were screaming and waving their weapons around their heads. For a moment I was shocked, but then I managed to jump into action.

I rushed Lysander back to his family. I knew he did not like to fight, and that he would be happier with his family, knowing they were safe. Once I had done that I looked to Shadow. He had been tethered to the wagon while I did the repairs further up the train. But a very cleverly aimed arrow, or a very lucky miss, had sawn through the tether. I saw him on the battlefield, fighting off men, especially one of the woads who had tried to mount him.

In the confusion I whistled for him, and he came. He was a well trained horse, and did what was ordered of him. He was patient while I mounted, and then he took me where I wanted to go. I rode to one side of the battle, the better to empty my quiver into the screaming blue mass. Once I had run out I drew my sword, and I went in search of Freya.

She was in the middle of the mêlée, swinging her battleaxe from side to side. I saw something of her people in her then, the warlike race. I was proud to call her my friend then. But I was distracted when I was almost pulled from Shadow. He lashed out as I stabbed and the woad soon fell. It became clear that the woads were not going to give up, and at the rate we were going we might die.

But perhaps fortune was with us. For soon we were joined in the battle by knights. I recognised my brother's horse, although I scarcely recognised the man sitting on him. He was a warrior first and foremost, shooting arrows with deadly accuracy, and using his sword like he had been born to fight and to kill. It was a far cry from the boy I remembered.

I was foolish when I let my mind wander. So I was not aware when I was joined on Shadow by another woad. This one had gotten a hold of my throat, and was not going to let go. I had to try and calm Shadow and detach the man from my throat, and I was failing miserably at both. My head was spinning and I was feeling very short of breath, a legacy of my illness. Luckily an archer from the knights came to my rescue.

I had no chance to thank him though; there were many adversaries to fight. Soon though, they were all dead, none had fled from the battlefield. I let Shadow take to Freya's side, where I saw respect shining in her eyes. Her people had been like the woads, never running away from a battle. I touched her shoulder and she looked at me and nodded. I nodded back. We were both alive and well, me with perhaps a bruise around my neck, nothing more.

I felt my eyes being drawn to the knights, and I saw my brother. I felt a lump in my throat and my eyes were blurry with tears as I helped Freya onto Shadow's back and we made our way to Lysander's wagon. He and his family were unhurt, although Lysander's oldest, Felix, had bloodied his sword for the first time, and he was shocked. I left Freya talking to him and wandered around the battlefield gathering up arrows which could be used again.

It was there that one of the knights found me. He stood behind me and waited until I turned around. I jumped and dropped the arrows I had been carrying. Red faced I bent and picked them all up, afraid to be seen so clumsy before one of these great men. The one who had startled me soon apologised and helped me gather up my arrows.

"I heard you were a smith," he said after we had gathered the arrows.

"I'm one of them, but are you would not rather see Lysander?" I asked with the arrows in my arms.

"Lysander is not a pretty girl like you though," the knights flirted.

"I thank you for the compliment, but I must ask why you asked for a smith?" I asked smiling at the easy charm of the knight.

"My sword was broken, and I was wondering if you could fix it," the knight held out a sword to me.

In answer I held up the arrows. So I walked back to Lysander's cart escorted by one of the great knights. Freya was not best pleased when she heard the conversation that he had struck with me, but it was innocent enough, and I knew that if I chose to end it, there would be an end to it. I deposited the arrows, and then turned to look better at the knight and attend to his problem.

He held out the sword to me in two parts and I took it. It was a repairable break, although it would take a lot of skill. I told him so, and I would be happy to repair it when we were at the wall and I had access to a smithy. The knight seemed genuinely pleased, and all the air of a flirt had gone. He took back his sword with a grateful bow of his head.

"Kay told me it could be fixed, although the smith at the fort, the last time I asked him to repair a break like this said I had to buy a new sword," the knight explained patiently.

"Kay," I gasped my brother's name feeling suddenly light headed and finding it hard to breathe.

"Are you alright my lady?" the knight asked suddenly concerned.

I went to answer in the affirmative, as I had placed a hand over my heart and my pulse seemed normal. But I seemed unable to answer, and I blacked out. I wasn't aware that I had fainted and my body had fallen to the floor. All I felt was a slight jolt and then nothing for a few moments.

Kay's POV

I looked across to one of the wagons when Gawain let out a shout. I had last seen him when he had gone in search of the female smith that worked with the general's smith. When I heard that there was a female smith my heart rejoiced, for I thought I might meet Kyna again after all these years. Kyna my darling little sister who had made an arrow for me which I treasured to this day.

I stopped by telling myself that there was no possible way that my sister could come to be working with a Roman, smith or not, under a Roman general. I saw the blonde haired woman who I had seen fighting earlier look up when the commotion was set up. A small child from the wagon nearest Gawain ran to fetch her. When she heard the news she gasped and said a single word.

"Kyna," she ran off after the child when she had said this, towards the wagon.

My interest was peaked at this point. There was a female smith, trained as my sister had been, or rumoured to have, if what the general said was true. And also she happened to have the same name as my sister. I thought that was too many coincidences for my liking, and so I went to investigate. The blonde haired warrior from earlier had pushed Gawain away and was keeping the other knights at a distance, as with the rest of the crowd.

The general and Arthur pushed through to the front of the group when news reached them. One of the perks of leadership obviously, you got to know what was going on before anyone else. I followed them, ignoring some of my fellow knights giving me black looks. I apologised hurriedly to someone as I pushed to the front and finally got a view of the woman.

Her head was propped up on the blonde woman's knee, and her dark wavy hair was pillowed across it accordingly. I gasped as I recognised the fine boned features of my sister. I swore my heart stopped for a few moments. Without saying another word I dropped to my knees next to her, ignoring the looks the blonde woman was shooting me. Everyone who knew me was surprised by this behaviour.

I think Arthur asked me what I was doing when my sister opened her eyes. Her green blue ones met mine, and I smiled, not quite believing it. I closed my eyes for a few moments, almost daring her to disappear as if this were some part of a dream. When I opened my eyes I still saw her looking at me with tear filled eyes, and she bit back a sob.

"Kay," she managed to cry.

Ignoring the protests of her friend I hugged her then. She hugged me back just as fiercely, and proceeded to cry into my jerkin, but I hardly cared. I had met my sister again. This was far from the reunion that I had planned with me riding victorious into my village, but it was still joyous for all that. And perhaps it was even more precious because it really was happening; it wasn't something that might have been.

As Kyna pulled back I admit I had tears in my eyes. It was a very emotional reunion. Later when Kyna had told me all that had happened to her then I understand that she never expected to see me again. I must admit that I never expected to see her again, never in my wildest dreams. It felt very good now that it was happening. It was like all my birthdays had come at once.

"Kyna?" The blonde woman asked with mistrust for me evident in her voice.

"It's okay Freya, its Kay," Kyna managed to answer through her tears.

"Kay?" Lancelot asked me, confused by the whole thing.

"Its Kyna," was all the explanation I would offer.

Eventually we all got moving. I got Kyna to ride beside me just so we could talk and catch up on old times. Her horse was pretty wary of me, but Kyna explained she was surprised by his reaction, she was expecting him to kick and bite me. When she told me his story I was not surprised. I said that I would get her horse to trust me, and she smiled, recognising my stubborn streak of old.

What I wouldn't get is why she seemed not willing to talk to me about her past since I had left Sarmatia. She was almost as quiet as Tristan on that, saying that it didn't matter at all. Freya was drawn into the conversation by my sister, and soon we were easy with each other, I hoped well on the way to making friends.

With the arrival of my sister the rest of my time in service seemed less tedious than it had before. I knew she would be a little ray of sunshine, easing what time left I had to spend.

Author's note: Well here's another chapter. I hope you all recognise where the ambush took place, although there aren't any prises for guessing. Thank all of you who read this, and I hope you enjoyed it. Any criticism is welcome.


	8. Chapter 7 Everyones got a Story to Tell

**Raging Raven**: Yeah it is a happy reunion. I wasn't actually planning on doing it this early, or in the way that I did. But hey that's the brilliance of deciding to completely re-write stuff.

**Scouter**: I am very glad you enjoyed and thank you for taking the time to review. I don't know who she's going to end up with, so any suggestions would be very much appreciated!

Chapter 7

Everyone's got a story to share

Kyna's POV

The fort happened to be everything I expected it to be. It wasn't much different from the other I had seen and heard of. I knew that the design worked, so some clever Roman decided to use it everywhere. The result? A fort that looked much like any other along the wall. It was a square design with two walls extending from Hadrian's Wall, and another wall to cut that off. This was considered a large fort at a mile square. To me it seemed small, especially with the large amount of people who lived there.

I knew that this was an unusual fort, simply because it had the Sarmatian knights, where elsewhere there were none. I think my brother jokingly suggested they were a rare breed, one that was soon going to die out. I smiled at that, but I couldn't laugh, there was a heavy mention to death there. After my close encounter with death I was careful not to laugh at death.

My brother noticed that I was not laughing as I once would have. I answered that I had grown up and seen much. He also asked after our mother and father. I answered that they were both missing their children and longed for their return to their hearth. It was not a falsehood; I knew they both would want us to return home. But could I leave my brother behind to finish off his service? I knew what the answer would be, I couldn't leave him.

As the general, his soldiers and the knights went straight to the villa I walked down to the stables and went to settled Shadow down. I brushed him down and settled his tack, but I didn't know where to settle him. So I waited until someone came in, leading the generals and Arthur's horses. I indicated to Shadow to make my point. The man who was introduced to me as Jols said to leave Shadow, but I said I really didn't think that was a good idea.

Shadow proved my point when one of the knights accidentally got too close. Shadow lunged for him, and I tried to pull him back. With the force of a horse at the end of the rope I was holding one handed, I had no chance to put two hands on it; it did something to my shoulder. I felt a sharp yank, and then it hurt. I cried out and grabbed the rope with my good hand and pulled Shadow back, who seemed to be chastised by the idea that he had hurt me.

So I was soon given a stall for Shadow. Once I saw him settled I turned back to see Kay and one of the other knights waiting. He was introduced to me as Dagonet, the healer of the group. I smiled and told him then that I was no knight. It didn't matter though, I was my brother's sister, and so my shoulder was looked at.

It had become dislocated. I was told to look away, as my arm was pushed back into its proper place. I must admit it didn't hurt as much as I expected it to. The pain itself had been so bad that this was only a small discomfort. It might have been the fact that I wasn't allowed to look, but I still don't think it would have made that much of a difference.

Later on, once my brother had taken his leave of me to go and talk with Arthur and the other knights I went to inspect the forge. For me it would be more than just a work place. It would be my home. There was a house across the courtyard garden to the back, but that for Lysander and his family. Luckily there was a loft for me to stay in. I didn't know what it had been used for before; there was a wooden outbuilding to keep all the metals and other things in.

Looking around I knew it would be a while before anyone could work in this forge again. The wooden outbuilding was rotten, and the door was hanging off its hinges. The smithy itself was not much better. The thatch was rotten and stank, and the floorboards in the loft were cracked, or creaked dangerously when anyone walked on them. There were even a few gaps.

Thankfully the bellows and furnace were in good repair, and there was a sturdy anvil which looked like it had not been used very much. When I tested it, it turned out to be made of a good sturdy metal, and would serve us well. There was a little used corner which I knew I could claim as the place where I would make my jewellery. My loom was a different matter.

In the end my loom ended up in Lysander's house. There was no room for it in the loft, and anyway, it would be an awful strain on the floorboards I was planning to put down. So it was agreed that I would not only take my meals in Lysander's house, but that I would also sit there in the evenings, to weave or embroider, or something else like that.

Freya was to stay with me in my loft. It would save her renting a loft somewhere, as my brother had told me that they could be quite expensive to rent. Freya had fallen very much on her feet here. The general had offered her employment as a scout and fighter, in recognition of what she was a fighter. She was very pleased with this, and I was pleased for her, because it was what she wanted to do.

Later on my brother came and took me and Freya down to the tavern. I learnt it was run by Bors' mistress Vanora. I liked her; she had fiery red hair to match her temperament. When she first met me and my friend she was wary of us, especially Freya. It would take her a while to be easy around me, and even longer to be easy around Freya. But she was always courteous to us, and it made the difference, then in the beginning.

We were told that the knights did not have long, in a few days, once the general's forces were rested, they would ride to crush the woad uprising. It worried me a little, because not only was my brother going, but Freya would be as well, her first real job. I was nervous for both my friend and my brother, but I was reassured by Kay, saying that this was routine.

So after the business was over we all sat and enjoyed a drink, the knights, myself and Freya. The other knights were only too willing to tell tales of Kay, and of themselves. I soon learnt a lot about them through their actions, even their silent scout. I obviously guessed he had no love of conversation.

Then talk turned to Freya. She told them of her past, and what had happened to her. It shocked the knights her treatment at the hands of the Romans. She was very careful not to mention where she had met me, I had asked her to reveal nothing of what happened to me. She was puzzled by this, but eventually agreed. As she came towards the end of the story I felt uncomfortable, knowing the talk would turn to me next.

When asked to share what had happened to me since I had last seen my brother, I refused politely, but none the less firmly. It was still a mystery to them how I had met Freya, they thought that I had travelled straight from Sarmatia, which was a falsehood. I said that I had not come from Sarmatia directly, but this confused them, and I would not enlighten them. Perhaps I would have got away with not telling anyone anything if it wasn't for Tristan. I guessed not many of the knights knew of my bracelets, I had mostly kept them covered, as they gave away clues as to my past.

"She's was a slave," Tristan finally declared.

At that moment everyone fell silent. I knew everyone was looking at me and unconsciously I began to rub one of my bracelets. I couldn't hate Tristan for pointing it out, but I thought he could have chosen a better moment; one that perhaps would have saved me some of the embarrassment that I felt.

"Is it true?" Kay asked me, his eyes pleading with me for an answer.

I couldn't answer, I just nodded my head. Slowly the whole story came pouring out, hesitantly at first, but soon I found I couldn't stop. When it ended I sat where as still as I had before, my head bowed, hair obscuring my face from view. It was Kay who crouched down in front of me. It was he who lifted my head. I saw tears in his eyes, like glittering diamonds.

I was sad as well. I realised for the first time that I had lost so much. But hadn't I gained so much more? I had lost my freedom, but regained it. I had lost my parents, but found my brother. I lost my jobs, but now I was in a place where my skills could become widely known. I had traded one place for another, and wasn't it better? I knew that perhaps it was, but my past had been dear to me, and some part of me would always miss it.

I left then, and Kay let me. We had both changed, and I needed time to myself, he understood that. He could still read me well. I walked along the wall, it was very peaceful. I could look out for miles, and see the stars glowing like lanterns lighting the way for people. The wind ruffled my hair, obscuring for a moment my ability to hear the buzz of people. It was comforting to hear them and know they were there, and yet be distanced from them.

It was Arthur who came to talk to me. He leant out alongside and watched the night with me for a few moments. I turned to him and smiled, a question burning in my eyes. He did not answer my question, and we both returned to watching the night. Eventually we both turned and looked down into the wall. It was then that Arthur chose to talk.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you," he started by saying.

"You shouldn't be, it wasn't your fault," I answered puzzled for a moment.

"I heard your story, and it should be enough to make anyone sorry," Arthur countered.

"It happened, and no one should be sorry unless there's need for them to be," I replied.

We talked a lot about Rome then, and out differing perspectives of it. Arthur had seen it very much as I had, and yet he also had an insight that I had never had being a citizen, and a fairly well to do one at that. I told him that I had met Pelagius. We talked of him, and how good a man he was. Arthur smiled when he said that Pelagius had sent him a letter about a female smith he had met in Rome, and that he had guessed was me, as I was travelling with the general.

Arthur eventually told me about his family. He told me of his father who had ridden off into battle, and who had never come back. He told me of his British mother, who had loved his father dearly. He also told me of the woad attack that killed his mother, and his want of revenge for her death. I saw a man, who had honourable intentions, although he carried bitterness in his heart about his mother's death.

I think I understood the Roman commander then. It was what he had wanted. By sharing his past he was letting me see what he felt. He was a good man, but perhaps not always driven by the best of intentions. But he was loyal and a good fighter, everything Rome wanted in him. Through all of this he was still a reachable person, friends with his knights, even if the divide was sometimes too large.

So I returned to the tavern, and I sat with my brother and the knights. We laughed and we joked, but everyone treated me as if I would break down at any moment. Kay was a little less gentle, he was my brother and I loved him dearly. Seeing him and the knights making Freya welcome when I re-entered the tavern made my almost cry for joy. Things were finally going the way I wanted them to.

Author's note: Sorry if it seems so short, but it was all I could think of for the moment. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.


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